


A first kiss

by Luna218



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna218/pseuds/Luna218
Summary: “She’s important to me.”, he growled and the anger faded slowly. Holmes could see the lie in his eyes.“No, she’s not.”He knew the way his voice needed to sound like to make John question his sexuality. He’d gathered enough data during a three-week experiment on the subject. It had been the last evidence that John Watson loved him more than himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Strange_johnlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/gifts).
  * A translation of [A first kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941747) by [Strange_johnlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/pseuds/Strange_johnlock). 



Holmes and Watson had been sitting around in this place for hours. Well, John had been sitting around and Sherlock examined blood that had been found at a crime scene. However, he could not concentrate on the task because John was arguing with Sam. The frequent messaging sound and the way John hit the buttons of his phone told Sherlock as much. They argued a lot. Sam was an impossible person. Although Sherlock might have said that about every woman John was with.  
During the day, he’d somehow gotten angry. The case was important, a woman and her children had been stabbed, so Sherlock had jumped out of his chair, ripped the phone out of John’s hand and thrown it against the wall.  
John had gone through the roof. The anger that had been simmering below the surface only seconds before was now showing itself in the way John jumped to his feet, grabbed Sherlock by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him all the way through the room until he hit a table.  
“What the hell, Sherlock.”, he growled and Sherlock enjoyed every second of his anger, the way it showed in his face and his posture. Holmes liked how manly it made John, how beautiful. Sometimes he provoked him on purpose.  
“It’s distracting. She’s not important enough to distract me from a case.”  
John took a deep breath, then he relaxed the fingers that had still been buried in Sherlock’s jacket. What a pity.   
“She’s important to me.”, he growled and the anger faded slowly. Holmes could see the lie in his eyes.   
“No, she’s not.”  
He knew the way his voice needed to sound like to make John question his sexuality. He’d gathered enough data during a three-week experiment on the subject. It had been the last evidence that John Watson loved him more than himself. Sherlock had worked out exactly thirteen different scenarios as to how the moment would play out when John finally realised this about himself. There was one that Sherlock had set his mind to. One that he wanted to turn into reality when the situation arose. Now, it had. Anger gave way to all sorts of other feelings, no matter how well they’d been hidden before.  
“There’s just one thing that needs doing to prove that she’s not.”  
John turned away and paced through the room, his hands curled into fists. Not good. Closeness was good.  
“Sherlock, listen, my relationships are none of your business. I’m sorry for disturbing you. I turned the sound off though.” He picked up the phone, which had miraculously survived the impact. The anger wasn’t there anymore, or too little of it. Still, he couldn’t look at Sherlock.  
“You want to know what it is. Even though you’re doubting that I’m right, you want to know.”  
John put the phone away and kneaded his hands. He was insecure. “Then tell me.”  
Sherlock sighed. He was such a brilliant idiot.  
“Show you, John. I can show you. Would you like that?“  
John licked his upper lip. “That… that seems a bit weird right now, Sherlock, I… “. He was looking for words. „… we should… the case…“  
Sherlock was with him the next moment. It took him exactly two strides. If John had been the one moving, it would have been four.  
Once again, John nervously licked his upper lip and seconds later, Sherlock did the same. His tongue on John’s lips, the taste of his saliva, the way his skin felt there. John.  
Right after, Sherlock turned away. He didn’t know what to do. Surely, he knew how kissing worked in theory but he should have practised. He needed to impress John.  
“Sherlock.”  
John had never said his name in that way. He sounded surprised, questioning, loving. Holmes didn’t dare looking at him. He’d lost control of the situation and hated himself for it.  
“Sherlock.” John’s fingers on his cheek gently forced him to turn his face to look at him. There was too much in his gaze for Sherlock to be able to read all the data, not in a moment like this. Again, it was John who saved the situation because Sherlock didn’t know how to treat people. John. His wonderful John.  
John on tiptoes. A while they were breathing the other’s air. Sherlock’s fingers looked for purchase in the fabric of John’s jumper, while John’s hands found Sherlock’s neck. He laid his thumbs on Sherlock’s cheeks and slowly pulled him forward. Kiss. They were going to kiss. John was about to kiss Sherlock, and Sherlock was afraid because he understood that there was no way back now. One kiss and he’d want more, so much more – for the rest of his life. He was afraid that John would want something else. Then more important thoughts crossed his mind because John’s mouth captured his lower lip. Gentle, questioning, thoughtful.  
Sherlock pressed his eyes closed, hoping he could take in every small detail. The fabric of John’s jumper under his fingers, the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his lips.  
“Hey.” John brushed an errant curl from Sherlock’s forehead, his fingers as soft as his voice. “Relax, it’s all fine.”  
John was the stronger out of the two, he’d always been that. Sherlock’s support, his rock.  
Sherlock took a deep breath, then let it go again and pressed his mouth to John’s, so hard it hurt. He wanted to be as close to John as possible. His fingers buried in blond hair, John’s warm, strong hands on his hips.  
Footsteps. Molly.

When the door opened, Sherlock was back at his spot, pressing his eyes to the microscope to hide his gaze. Their first kiss and he had ruined it.  
Molly entered the lab and he had never loather her presence as much as he did now. He said nothing to keep himself from screaming. John exchanged some small talk with her. It seemed like he’d regained control. Sherlock pressed his eyelids together and when he opened them, his focus had returned. He’d been blind before, now he was finally able to see. He jumped up.  
“John. Text Lestrade. Tell him to arrest the husband. Case closed, we’re going home.”  
John looked at him, confused.  
“But Sherlock, you said…”  
“… that it couldn’t have been him but it had to be him. There’s the proof. Text Lestrade.“  
There was no time for discussion. He wanted to kiss.  
With that, he left the lab, then Barts, and went he home. He left it to John to follow him. A shared cab ride seemed to be exhausting, too uncomfortable. He wanted to kiss, not talk.

John arrived at 221B exactly twelve minutes and forty-three seconds later than Sherlock. Holmes was waiting for him in the living room.  
“Sherlock, Lestrade would like to know how…”  
“Kissing,” Sherlock interrupted him and opened his arms for John. He felt ridiculous but he didn’t care. He needed John to forget how clumsy their first kiss had been. Now.  
John ignored the gesture and hung his jacket away.  
“Sherlock, we should…”  
“Kiss. Now.“  
There is was, that smile. It always snuck onto his face when Sherlock did something impossible and every other person would have been confused or angry.  
Then John was close, had placed himself between Sherlock’s arms. Warm.  
“Okay.”, John took his face between his hands, his fingers so soft on his lips. Almost like kisses.  
“Let me,” John cleared his throat, “let me do that, alright?”  
“Kiss,” Sherlock said again because his brain wasn’t capable of anything else anymore.  
John smiled again and finally, his lips landed where they were supposed to be. John’s hands were on his chest, then sometimes went back to his face for brief moments if John wanted to show Sherlock how to tilt his head.  
Kissing was wet. It produced strange, smacking sounds and the taste of saliva was something he needed to get used to. Still, Sherlock didn’t want to ever stop.  
He learned quickly because John was a good teacher. The kiss turned wilder. He sucked John’s upper lip between his, gently bit into his lower lip and poked John’s tongue with his own. Touch and respond to John’s touches.  
More. More kisses, more closeness, more touches, more of everything.  
He wanted John’s scent on his skin and his sheets, so he could always have access to it. John kissed the corners of his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw, and then this wonderful tongue was at his throat and another sense of yearning, stronger than he’d ever felt before, shot through his body. He tipped his head back and John’s laugh vibrated across his skin. Now.  
Sherlock took John’s face between his hands. John’s lips were red and swollen from kissing, his breathing was going fast and his heart was racing.

“Sex,” Sherlock said and John laughed. Then he took Sherlock’s hand and pulled him into the bedroom.  
John was breathing deep in his sleep. He lay on his left side, facing Sherlock, with one hand on the pillow. His lips were red from Sherlock’s kissed, his hair a mess. Sherlock watched every twitch, every movement in his face. With each one he learned more about the man who was so familiar, yet new. So wonderful.  
For a long time, he had supressed, even cursed the feeling inside him. Now that it had finally broken free, he couldn’t reign it in and it ruled his whole heart.  
Sherlock had wanted so much, everything at once and at the same time, and John, his John had become his voice of reason and had taken the lead. John had undressed him slowly, and he’s kissed every newly revealed inch of skin. In that moment, Sherlock understood that he could never let this man go again or share him with anyone else. He felt tears well up in his eyes but John kissed them away. Sherlock found so much understanding in John’s eyes and the touch of his hands.  
“It’s alright, beautiful.” John’s lips touched the right corner of Sherlock’s mouth like a feather. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Then he kissed the left corner of Sherlock’s mouth.  
Sherlock laughed, no, giggled. „You’re an idiot, John Watson. The problem isn’t what I don’t want. The problem is that I want it all. It’s terrifying.”  
“You’re the idiot, Sherlock Holmes. I want to do all of that with you.”  
It would have been reasonable, logical, to ask about Samantha but he couldn’t. He needed to erase her from John’s mind, if only for a night. 

Now that John was sleeping by his side, Sherlock wished to have him there forever, more peaceful than he ever was during the day. He wanted to kiss him awake, to welcome him into his body even before breakfast. (Yes, anal sex had been a part of the Everything they’d been discussing but they hadn’t gone through with it yet.) He wanted to be close to John every day without having to respect the boundaries of friendship. He didn’t care that his thoughts were selfish or that Samantha would be hurt. John belonged to him, had already belonged to him for many years.  
“Sherlock?” Deep, blue eyes looked at him from below, and warm fingers reached for the Hand that had been caressing John’s hairline. For a moment, Sherlock was afraid that John would pull his hand away but the doctor kissed first the palm of his hand, then every single finger, so gently, as if Sherlock were made of ice and John’s hot lips threatened to melt him.  
Sherlock threw himself on and gave neither of them to think if this was a good idea. He pressed his lips to John’s to show him what he had learned in the past few hours. His plan, however, didn’t work out because he lost himself in the feeling of John’s mouth. (Battle plan: One long kiss, two short ones, nip bottom lip, introduce tongue.) John was the only one with whom he felt safe to lose control.  
John’s breathing was ragged, his pulse was racing under Sherlock’s fingers and yet he found the energy to break the kiss, just when Sherlock’s tongue had been so beautifully entwined with his.  
“Sherlock. Sherlock, wait.”  
Frustrated, Sherlock rolled off him. In his body, his lust was raging. “The goal was to keep you from thinking, John.”  
His best friend smiled for a moment but it didn’t deceive Sherlock, who knew that he was worried.  
“I have to.. Samantha. I must talkt o her. It’s not fair for us to... behind her back.”  
John turned to his side, pushed himself up on his right elbow and ran his left hand through Sherlock’s hair. It made his scalp tingle.   
“She deserves some honesty. And then I want to do everything with you, without a bad conscience, without her standing between us. I don’t want us to be just an affair.”  
Good. That was good. More than just an affair. That meant something long-term, something official.  
“You always pick the worst moments to be reasonable.”  
John laughed. Sherlock couldn’t get enough of John’s laugh. It ended in kissed, gentle and unhurried and sometime later John went back to sleep. Sherlock lay awake, his head resting on John’s shoulder. For the first time in his life, he felt whole. A feeling that remained.


End file.
